The Black Soul Gem
by Toris-96 and Feliks-00
Summary: (Skyrim AU) As the Dragonborn, Alfred has a world to save. Too bad he's been turned into a vampire. But, with the help of a skilled Alchemist, a Priest of Mara, and a follower for hire, Alfred just might be able to cure himself. (Rated T for violence)(Further summary inside)
1. Crimson Nirnroot

_Hey, guys! Don't know Skyrim all that well? Don't worry! We will be explaining words and phrases as we go. If there is a term that is unfamiliar to you, and there is a (*) by it, then it has a definition at the bottom! Other than that, thanks for checking our story out, and enjoy!_

* * *

The sun seemed to beat down on Alfred harder than before, or perhaps it was all in his head.

Recently, being the heroic Dragonborn* that he is, he had been doing a lot of small favors for the people of Skyrim*, that and some extra coin never hurt. But, this last "favor" was more than he bargained for. He was supposed to retrieve some necklace or something out of a cave, and surprise! Vampires! After the spell was casted on him, Alfred contracted the Vampirism, and now, he had two days before he was a full-fledged vampire.

This couldn't happen to him, he was the Dragonborn. He had things to do, a world to save, and now he's going to turn into a vampire because he got a little more than sidetracked during his travels. But, there was hope. He had heard of a skilled Alchemist* in Riften*, and perhaps he or she could help him. He sighed and looked back up to the sky as he walked across the wooden planks, praying that he could find a cure to all of this.

Eventually, he came to a shop called _Emerald's Alchemy_ , and Alfred found himself running at the small building when he saw it, finally feeling some relief after a full day of non-stop travel. He stumbled in, finding the door a bit heavier than he originally thought, regained his balance, and strode up to the desk, where a man was standing with his back to him, organizing some ingredients* on a shelf, paying no mind the the sudden ruckus that Alfred caused.

Alfred waited politely for a few moments, but, after going seemingly unnoticed, he tried to grab the other's attention, "Excuse me," He said kindly, "Are you the alchemist here?"

"What would ever give you that impression?" The man asked, not turning around.

"Well, the sign outside says-" Alfred cut himself off when he caught the sarcasm, "Listen, I'm in a hurry, and-"

The Alchemist turned around, interrupting him, "Sorry, I can't sure impatience."

Alfred gave a sigh of irritation, "Listen, I know you must be busy, everyone is these days, so let's get this over with."

"No you mean _you're_ busy, and you're pretending to be empathetic to me." The Alchemist scoffed, "Why are Nords* always so full of themselves?"

"Okay, _Breton_ ,*" Alfred stated like the race was a disease, "I can play that game too."

"Really?" The Alchemist said disinterestedly, "Go ahead, then. What wrong with my race?"

Alfred opened his mouth and pointed at him, before coming up with nothing, "Uh, well, usually, you guys are better at talking to others."

"Ow." The Alchemist said sarcastically, "My poor Breton heart is broken by your offensive words."

Alfred rolled his eyes, "I have better things to do than keep track of stereotypes, so can I just get a Potion of Cure Disease*?"

The Alchemist looked him up and down, "For what?"

"Does it matter?"

"As of matter of fact, it does," He said, turning around to the shelf with some potions on it, "I have a few variations."

"What a load of shit." Alfred muttered, knowing that he was getting cheated.

The Alchemist turned to him, his green eyes furious, "Yes, not many people know that there can be more variations of some potions, but there are. I know this, because I am one of the best of what I do. Now what is your bloody ailment?"

 _Nords are full of themselves_ , Alfred thought sarcastically, but decided to keep his mouth shut. Instead he looked around to make sure that no one else hand entered the shop before leaning forward and lowering his voice, "Vampirism."

The Alchemist was silent for a long moment, giving nothing but a blank stare, "...And you want a Potion of Cure Disease for that?"

Alfred glanced away, "...Yes?" He said, his statement sounding like a question.

The Alchemist hesitated, "Alright." He said with a shrug. He grabbed a small, red vile from behind him and set it on the counter, "That'll be forty."

"Forty?" Alfred echoed, "That's a bit pricy."

"Like I said, I'm the best."

Alfred rolled his eyes, he really didn't want to do business with the man, but he didn't have any more time, "Fine." Alfred said bitterly, going through his pockets and setting forty coin on the counter, "Here."

"Thank you."

Alfred then turned to leave, but stopped when the Alchemist called, "By the way, vampirism is tricky, so if you don't feel better, come back, I might have something else for you."

Alfred nodded, "Alright." He then headed to the inn across the small town, drank the potion, and bedded down for the night.

* * *

That cheating witch.

Alfred woke up feeling worse than ever, and when he looked in the mirror, he could see that he was growing pale, his eyes were beginning to look bloodshot, and not to mention how cold he was to the touch.

The best of what he does? Variations? Alfred was right, he was being cheated, and now he was storming across town to see the Alchemist pay. He felt run-down and tired as the sun's rays seemed even harsher than yesterday, but that didn't stop him because he only had just under twenty-four hours to fix this, and by Talos* he was going to find a way. He slammed the door to the shop open and marched over to the desk, "You!" He shouted, pointing at the Breton, "Explain yourself right now!"

The Alchemist gave a smug smile, "Oh, what's the matter? How can you be so grumpy on a nice, sunny day like this?"

"You know _exactly_ what's going on!" Alfred exclaimed, "I want my coin back! And I need you to fix this now!"

"Listen," The Alchemist began, "I will give you the coin back, but I'm afraid I can't cure you."

"I thought you were the best!" Alfred stated, throwing the man's words back at him.

"The reason I gave you the potion yesterday, was because of your stupidity." The Alchemist explained, "You fail to know that there is no cure."

Alfred could feel his expression of anger fall as his chest began to feel empty, "Wait, what? There has to be _something_."

The Alchemist gave a strange look, almost as if his was in pain, "Well...There might be something…. _Might."_

Alfred gasped, feeling new hope, "Really? What?"

"I've heard rumors of a way to reverse the effects," The Alchemist confessed, "But I don't know if it would work."

"Please," Alfred begged, "I'll try anything!"

"But, I need two supplies that I don't have."

Alfred shook his head, "No worries, I'll get them, I'm used to running dangerous errands for people."

The Alchemist sighed, "No, that's not the problem. The problem is that you're a vampire, or close to being one anyway. You need someone there to make sure you don't get off track and start killing people."

"Then come with me." Alfred offered quickly, "I don't mind company, the more the merrier as they say."

The Alchemist lifted an eyebrow at him, "And what makes you so special?"

Alfred didn't like pulling this card, but it works in times like this, "I'm the Dragonborn."

The Alchemist bursted into laughter, grabbing at his stomach, and bending over a bit, "Oh, Talos!" He cursed.

"It's not funny!" Alfred yelled over the other man's laughter, "It's true!"

The Alchemist's laughter winded down, as he wiped some tears, "It's been a long time since I've laughed like that." Before Alfred could retort, he spoke again, "What else do you have for me? Coin's not enough for this deal, and neither is your joke."

Alfred let out an angry breath as he thought of what he might have that would benefit the other man. Then, he had the perfect idea, this man was an alchemist after all, "How about all my Crimson Nirnroot*?"

The Alchemist's smile faded, "Are you serious? You can't be. That's only found in Blackreach*, nothing but a myth."

Alfred leaned forward on the counter and gave a taunting smile, "I've been to Blackreach, and I have some."

The Alchemist's lips pierced into a thin line, "Prove it."

With a casual shrug, Alfred took off his pack, and dug through the little pouch where he kept his ingredients, and pulled out the reddish plant, "There, you see?"

The Breton gasped and practically lunged forward, his hands grabbing at the Nirnroot. Alfred pulled his hand away, forcing The Alchemist to run into the counter, "Nuh-uh. No touching."

The Alchemist tapped his fingers on the wooden counter top impatiently, not taking his eyes off of the more than rare plant. Finally, he sighed, "Okay, that's one thing. What about the other? After all, I need to help you get two supplies."

Alfred scoffed, "I'm giving you _all_ my Crimson Nirnroot, and you want something else?"

The Alchemist shook his head frantically, "Nothing materialistic, or of value. Just the location of Blackreach."

"So, my Crimson Nirnroot, and the location of Blackreach," Alfred began, "in exchange for your help on my quest?"

"Yes."

Alfred gave a curt nod, holding out a hand to shake, "You got a deal, pal."

The Alchemist gave an enthusiastic smile, shaking his hand, "Deal!"

Now that's done, time to get to the next step, "So, tell me...Um…"

"Arthur." The Alchemist filled in.

"Alfred." He introduced, "What exactly do we need?"

"According to the rumors I heard," Arthur started, "We need a Black Soul Gem*, and an incantation."

Alfred nodded, "And when will we be leaving to look for those?"

Arthur gave a glance to the ceiling in thought, "Tonight. Not long after sundown. We won't find what we need within, well, however long you have, so may as well not try. While you are a vampire, you will be weakened by the sun, so we should travel at night."

Alfred nodded in approval, despite Arthur's rather difficult personality, he seemed to be a rational planner, "Alright, so what do I do 'till then? Sit around here? I'm looking too much like a vampire to walk around, or even go back to the inn."

Arthur sighed, leaning forward on the counter, "You should rest. I have an unused bed in the back of the building. It's rather uncomfortable, but it'll do."

"I'm exhausted," Alfred confessed, "I doubt I'll notice. I could sleep on the floor, and I'd still pass out."

Arthur rolled his eyes as he began to make his way to his Alchemy Table*, "Whatever. The doorway's to your left, sleep well."

"Thank you." Alfred said, turning and walking to the little, run-down room, "See you later."

Arthur didn't respond, but Alfred paid no mind. He laid down in the bed that was too small, got under the thin covers, and just like he thought, went right to sleep.

* * *

Alfred had heard about something called aromatherapy, and it was the idea of scents relieving your stress, and considering how well he slept in a building that smelled of spices and flowers, it worked. He woke up feeling better than when he fell asleep, which was something he couldn't say earlier, but then again, as he looked out the window, he could tell it was beginning to get dark out.

With a yawn, he got out of bed and made his way to the front room, where Arthur was still at his Alchemy Table. Trying to put past arguments behind, Alfred greeted him kindly and casually, "Hey."

Arthur gave a glance over his shoulder at him, "Evening," He responded, going back to crushing ingredients, "Did you sleep well?"

Alfred sat at a small side table by the entrance, "Better than at the inn."

Arthur nodded, "Your bodyclock is already changing. You'll sleep better in the daytime."

"I'm just over twelve hours away." Alfred stated, in which he only got a grunt of understanding in Arthur's response.

There was a long, awkwardly painful silence as Arthur continued working, but then the front door opened, and Alfred gave sigh of relief when at the thought of there being some kind of cushion between him and Arthur. A Nord with long, blond hair appeared in the doorway, and when Alfred looked the other man up and down, he realized that it was a Priest of Mara*.

" _Oh, Arthur!"_ The Priest sang, striding in before cutting himself off as he noticed Alfred, "Oh, hello." He looked back to Arthur, "Who's your friend?"

Arthur gave another glance over his shoulder at them, "That's Alfred. It's...Complicated."

Maybe it was the dim lighting of the candles, or perhaps Arthur's friend didn't know what a vampire looked like, because even after he bent down, he still said, "Oh, you poor thing, you look so sick."

"Of course he is," Arthur said flatly, "He's a vampire."

"He-" The Priest's eyes widened as he took a small step back, "I am so sorry."

Alfred shrugged, "It's okay, Arthur says that there might be a cure."

The Priest closed his eye briefly, almost as if he were restraining himself, "Arthur…"

Arthur turned around, "Alfred, this is my husband, Francis."

Before Alfred could greet the man civilly, Francis continued his thought, "Arthur, are you talking about those rumors?"

"Yes," Arthur answered, "It's better than nothing."

"You don't have those supplies." Francis pointed out.

Arthur nodded in understanding, "I know. Alfred's going to help me retrieve them."

Francis ran a hand through his light blond hair stressfully, "You're telling me that you are going, Talos knows where, fighting whatever attacks you-"

Arthur interrupted, "I have faced worse while at the College*, we both have."

Alfred narrowed his eyebrows, looking up at Francis, "Wait, you're a Mage* too?"

Francis glanced at him, but looked back at Arthur and continuing the argument instead of answering the question, "That's not the problem, you're putting your life in the hands of a vampire." He looked down at Alfred again, "No offence."

Alfred shrugged, "None taken."

Arthur rolled his eyes, speaking as if this was no big deal, "If I play this out right, then he won't lose his mind."

"He has to feed!" Francis pointed out.

"I…" Arthur gave a small expression of uncertainty, "Have a plan for that."

Francis crossed his arms, "And what is that?"

Arthur said nothing.

A look of realization hit Francis' face, "No." When Arthur did nothing but open and close his mouth in response, he repeated the statement, "No...No! No! No!"

It was obvious that both knew what they were thinking, but Alfred always found it hard to read in between the lines, "What?" He asked, hoping to get some insight.

No such luck, because Francis kept repeating himself, "No! No! No! No! Bad idea! No! You can't! I won't let you! That's dangerous! I-"

Arthur cut him off, plugging his ears and singing, " _La, la, la, Francis! I can't hear you!"_

"Oh, stop it!" Francis exclaimed, raising his voice, "When are you so childish?"

Arthur gave a smug smile, "Since he made me a deal I can't refuse."

Francis rolled his eyes, "And what would that be?"

"Crimson Nirnroot." Arthur answered simply, "And the location to Blackreach."

Francis pointed at him in accusation, but whatever retort he had died on his lips as his jaw fell open. Slowly, he turned his attention back to Alfred, "Blackreach? You've been there?"

Alfred gave a proud nod, "Yup."

Francis narrowed his eyebrows, "Who are you?"

"He claims to be the Dragonborn." Arthur said skeptically.

Francis' lips curled into a small smile of amusement as his body gave a short sieze of suppressed laughter, and Alfred had to give it to the man for trying to be nice, "Really?"

"I know it's hard to believe," Alfred stated, "But, yes."

"Anyway," Arthur started, getting back on track, "Do you think you could watch over the shop while I'm gone?"

Francis turned to the Breton with a sigh of surrender, "You're going to be too stubborn, aren't you?" Arthur only blinked at him, and at that, Francis gave a small breath of laughter, "Then, I'm going with you."

Alfred could see the look of defiance in Arthur's eyes, but didn't really argue, "What about the temple*?"

Francis rolled his eyes, "It's not like I'm a high priest. They'll be fine."

Arthur nodded, now looking worried, "Alright. Go pack your things, and get an hour's rest. We are leaving soon."

Francis took a long breath, but didn't reply to his husband, instead, he turned for the staircase, stopping by Alfred on his way there. He put a hand on his shoulder and smiled gently, "You'll be fine, my friend." Then, he walked off and disappeared up the stairs.

Maybe it was just because he was a priest, and had an impression of reassurance with his very presence, but Alfred could feel his stress level lower at Francis' words, and in a practical sense, that's all Alfred should feel. After all, both of his new companions seemed smart and capable, and both were mages, even if Francis had retired to become a priest. Perhaps he will be fine, and perhaps, the adventure will be fun, too.

But, no matter his own optimism, because it became apparent an hour and a half later, when they were all ready to go, that the married couple didn't share his high spirits. Arthur acted as if this was all a burden, and perhaps he was right, Alfred was the one in need of help, but in his own defense, Arthur didn't have to agree to anything. Francis, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind lending a hand to him, and being a Priest of Mara, that wasn't surprising. He seemed unbothered by all this up until Arthur left to go back to his shop for one last thing, leaving them in the heart of Riften in the moonlight. It was then when Francis expressed his wariness, and began to mumble a prayer, "Mara, please stay with me. Let me not be forced to do harm, let me not forget your teachings, and let me remember mercy."

That's when Alfred began to have his doubts, and when he realized how small of a chance that this rumor has of being true. Arthur and Francis just weren't doing this for Crimson Nirnroot and Blackreach, no one in their right mind would. Perhaps some of it was out of the goodness of their hearts. Either way, Alfred had to be sure to thank them before their quest becomes too dangerous.

* * *

Terms:

Dragonborn: A legend of a person who is born with a soul of a dragon, can use dragon-like powers called "shouts", and is burdened with the title of the best dragonslayer.

Skyrim: A cold land based on Scandinavia and the country where the game takes place.

Alchemist: One who makes magical potions.

Riften: A southeast city in Skyrim.

Ingredients: Flowers, spices, parts of animals and beasts that are used to make potions.

Nord(s): The majority race of Skyrim. Usually tall with fair skin and light hair, strong and brute.

Breton: Another race that look similar to Nords. Although, shorter with rounder faces, and are proficient in magic.

Potion of Cure Disease: There are many small ailments that can be contracted in Skyrim, this is a potion that will cure most of them.

Talos: Many people in Skyrim worship a Polytheistic religion (one with multiple gods). Talos is their god of war, and acts like a king of gods, much like Zeus.

Crimson Nirnroot: Normal Nirnroot can be found by water and emit a "musical" sound when you are near them. They are ingredients that can be used to damage stamina, achieve invisibility, and to help resist harmful magic spells. Crimson Nirnroot is a variation that has the same effects, but it's rarity and dangerous location in Blackreach make it more valuable.

Blackreach: A large underground abandoned city that is home to many dangers. It is hard to get to it, as well as explore in it, not many people come back alive, and most believe it is a myth.

Black Soul Gem: A Soul Gem is used to trap the souls of fallen enemies, and then it's power can be used to enchant weapons and armor. A Black Soul Gem works the same, but is more rare and harder to find.

Alchemy Table: A place where Alchemists crush up ingredients and make potions.

Priest of Mara: Mara is their goddess of love. Her Priests are known for compassion, mercy, and are the only ones who can perform weddings. I do not know if they can actually marry, but if not, Francis and Arthur's marriage is a result of creativity.

"College": Arthur is referring to the College of Winterhold. A place where you can learn magic.

Mage: One who practices magic.

"Temple": There are may temples that are dedicated to the gods of Skyrim. The one referenced is the Temple of Mara, where Francis works during the day.

Author's Note:

Thanks again for checking out our story! Sorry for all the terms to know, but better safe than sorry. Be sure to review, for they are always appreciated!

~Toris


	2. Feed

_Hey, guys! Don't know Skyrim all that well? Don't worry! We will be explaining words and phrases as we go. If there is a term that is unfamiliar to you, and there is a (*) by it, then it has a definition at the bottom! Other than that, thanks for checking our story out, and enjoy!_

* * *

 _Chapter Two_

 _Feed_

This was hands-down the strangest experience of Alfred's life. Being the Dragonborn, he's been through unimaginable scenario after unimaginable scenario, all of them dangerous, as that is the way of Skyrim. However this time he had no idea what to expect. It's not like he was fighting a dragon, Draugr*, Dragon Priest*, or anything he was used to. He was unknowledgeable, and felt vulnerable.

Alfred hated traveling at night, due to the monstrous wolves, Sabre cats*, bears, bandits, and anything else that lurks at night. Now he's one of the things that lurk in the night. His senses picked up, so much so that he could hear Arthur and Francis' heartbeats. Arthur's was slightly faster. Different scents flooded his nose, all of them mixing together, but there was one specific scent he could easily depict: blood. It didn't have the same metallic scent, now it smelled sweet. He could feel his mouth water a little as he glanced at Francis and Arthur, the sources of the smell. He looked away, picking up speed.

"Is there any way we can move faster?" Alfred asked impatiently, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Arthur let out a loud groan, "I already told you, Alfred, I can't cure impatience."

Francis giggled, putting his hand over his mouth, trying to conceal it, "Why are you in such a rush?"

"Why do you think?" Alfred snapped, not noticing the anger in his voice.

Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but Francis cut him off, "Leave him alone, this is a hard transition for him."

Alfred let out a heavy sigh, "I'm sorry for snapping at you, Priest, I just…" He trailed off.

"How many times to I have to tell you, Alfred, Francis is just fine, you don't need to call me priest," Francis reassured, waving him off, "and don't worry about it, I was just joking."

"To answer your question," Arthur began irritably, "we're moving fast enough. Remember, Francis only got an hour's worth of sleep before we left."

"I'm fine!" Francis exclaimed.

Arthur turned his head to his husband, "Then why are you complaining so much?"

"I wasn't!"

Alfred turned his head away from the two and let them bicker. He would keep listening, he needs something to distract himself from his thirst, but as the two raised their voices at one another, his ears began to ache. A curse of sensitive hearing. His head pounded, and he closed his eyes, rubbing his temples, trying to relieve himself of the pain.

He reopened his eyes to see it: Fort Greenwall*. Alfred stopped where he was, sliding his pack off of his back. He was wearing most of his armor already, just not his helmet or gauntlets. Pulling the ebony armor out of his pack, and slipping the gauntlets onto his hands, he was given a couple strange glances from Arthur and Francis.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked as Alfred slipped his helmet on.

"What do you think?" Alfred replied, pointing ahead, "that's Fort Greenwall. I'm keeping myself protected."

"What do you mean? We're not going in there, are we?" Francis exclaimed, sounding scared and defensive.

Alfred stared at the Nord, "Yeah, it's in the middle of the path."

"I'm not going in there," Francis stated firmly, crossing his arms, "I will not hurt or kill anyone."

Alfred shook his head, "We're going in there."

"No we're not!" Arthur argued, pointing at Alfred, "He is a priest of Mara! He's not going to burst into a bandit fort and kill whomever gets in his way!"

"How else are we going to get through, then?" Alfred prompted, "It's in the middle of the path!"

"We can go around," Francis offered, "stay in the shadows."

"It's a large fort, it would take forever to get around." Alfred complained.

Arthur crossed his arms, mirroring the same expression and stance Francis held, "It would take longer to fight ourselves through it."

Alfred glanced back and forth between the two, before pulling his helmet and gauntlets back off, "I'm not going to win, so I'll stop arguing." As he stuffed his armor back into his pack, he noticed that the two mages had started walking away, off the trail.

With a groan, Alfred heaved his pack over his shoulder, and jogged to catch up with the other two. As Francis had offered, they stayed close to the shadows, crouching and staying hidden from all outside eyes. Stealth seemed easier for Alfred, for some reason, almost like being turned into a vampire made his feet lighter. Whatever the reason, he was grateful. Although having tremendous fighting experience, he lacked in stealth abilities, but he made up for it with strength and skill. They walked in the shadow of the fort, staying close, but hidden. The hills seemed taller when off the main path, which made it that much more difficult. Alfred was used to climbing tall hills and mountains, he'd done it many times before, but with being so weak and hungry the way he was, it was harder.

Back on the main path, Alfred heard Arthur immediately deliver a bitter remark, "Happy now? We're on the main path again."

Alfred rubbed his temples, trying to rid of his headache, "Yeah, sure."

"Fine, be moody." Arthur grumbled, turning his attention back to his husband, and starting a conversation with him, which quickly turned back into playful bickering. Which didn't help Alfred's headache.

As the hours drug on, his throat became drier, and he could feel himself become more irritable. He rubbed his death-cold hands together, trying to warm them, which was unsuccessful. He reached his right hand down into his satchel, and pulled out the map, trying to find where they were. They were headed to Windhelm*, then to continue north to Winterhold*, where the College was located and try and get the incantation from one of the mages or teachers. A good idea, if they could make it there.

Alfred spotted Fort Greenwall on the map, then spotted the general area where they were. A little ahead of them was the small village of Kynesgrove*, which had an inn. He looked back up from his map, and to the stars and moon, noticing that it was nearing dawn. It would be dawn by the time they got to Kynesgrove.

"Hey," Alfred began, glancing over his shoulder at the two mages, "there's an inn up ahead, wanna rent a room or two for the night?"

"Why should we?" Francis replied, "We can make it to Windhelm by nightfall."

Alfred looked back ahead, rolling his eyes, "I'm a vampire, I'm pretty sure people would notice in direct sunlight."

"Which village are we nearing?" Arthur asked, peeking over Alfred's shoulder, trying to read the map, "Kynesgrove?"

"Yeah," Alfred replied, "There a problem?"

"No, I just hear that a room in Braidwood Inn* is pretty cheap," Arthur shook his head, "only ten gold."

"Yeah," Alfred agreed, "I've stayed there a few times while on my travels, it's pretty good. The mead's not bad."

"You Nords and your mead," Arthur groaned, rolling his eyes.

"Not all Nords," Francis protested, "there's nothing better than some fine Emberbrand* Wine to hit the spot… Definitely better than mead."

"I would argue, but I have too much of a headache for that." Alfred replied, smiling at Francis.

"How long have you had your headache?" Arthur asked, sounding concerned.

"Since before we passed Fort Greenwall."

Arthur glanced to Francis, "Are you feeling weak? Is it hard to concentrate?"

"Yeah, I feel weak, but I just transformed, so I expected that," Alfred shrugged, "Hard to concentrate? Not really… I mean maybe a little? There's just so many sounds and smells coming from everywhere, and…" He trailed off, glancing back and forth between the Arthur and Francis, noticing the scent of blood coming from them again.

"And?" Arthur prompted.

"And," Alfred restarted, "it's kinda distracting," He turned to continue walking.

"Are you hungry or thirsty at all?" Caution was very apparent in the Breton's voice.

The inside of Alfred's mouth felt like a desert. He had been drinking water all night, but it had always failed to quench his thirst. As for hunger, his stomach had been aching for food since he woke, but he never tried to eat, for he was pretty sure it wouldn't do anything but nauseate him. Slowly, he answered the question, "...Yes."

"You're going to have to feed when we get to the inn," Arthur half-muttered under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, "can you last that long?"

Alfred waved him off, "Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine, I'm not that hungry."

"A hungry vampire is a dangerous vampire, as they say." Francis pointed out.

"I'll be okay." Alfred promised, and continued walking. As long as they got to the inn, he would be fine. He wasn't having any uncontrollable urges, or anything like that, but he might start having some if he doesn't make it to the inn soon.

.

Braidwood Inn was lively. Music was playing, people were singing and drinking. Not one person inside was completely sober, with exception of the innkeeper, and, of course, Alfred and the two mages. Alfred was staying near the back of the inn, trying to remain unnoticed by the crowd. He heard the song about the Dragonborn being sang by the Bard*, which gave him a sense of pride.

Francis, who had been buying a room for the three of them, came walking up, saying "This way," leading them in the correct direction. Alfred followed him to the door closest to the exit, which was ideal. It would provide fast escape if necessary.

Francis opened the door to the small room, and Alfred scanned it. It had one large bed in the middle, a side chair, a probably empty dresser, and a nightstand. A bit compact for three people, but they could make it work. Alfred glanced to the bed again, guessing that Arthur and Francis would be sharing it, and he'd end up sleeping on the floor, or in the chair.

He dropped his backpack and his satchel on the ground beside the dresser, and started taking off his armor, trying to make himself comfortable. "I'm guessing you two are sharing the bed?" Alfred asked, wondering if his prediction was correct.

"Well, Arthur, at the very least, is sleeping in the bed." Francis answered quickly.

"Why? I'd be perfectly fine on the floor." Arthur protested.

"True, but you also insisted on letting him," Francis gestured to Alfred, "drink your blood, so I think you should sleep on the bed."

"Francis, I—"

"You know what," Alfred interrupted, "I'm just going to sleep on the floor, alright? You two share the bed."

"Are you sure?" Arthur asked, crossing his arms, "You won't complain about it?"

Alfred rolled his eyes, "I'm sure," he grumbled, plopping down in the chair beside the bed, closing his eyes out of exhaustion.

There was a long silence in the room, and Francis and Arthur set their bags down, and got a little settled down. Arthur sat on the edge of the bed, Alfred feeling his stare on him. He peeked open one eye, and looked back at the Breton, "What?" He asked.

Arthur hesitated for a moment, "...You need to feed."

Although his roaring stomach, Alfred felt a little nauseated at the sentence. He cleared his throat, "I think I can wait a little."

Arthur shook his head, crossing his arms, "Like Francis said earlier, a hungry vampire is a dangerous vampire… Besides, I'd like to get this over with."

Alfred swallowed hard, "I… I don't really want to."

"Why?" Arthur asked calmly.

"I just… I don't know, I'm…" He paused, allowing himself to sigh, "I'm scared."

Arthur was quiet for a long moment, his eyes not even hinting to his emotions or thoughts. Alfred dropped his stare to the ground, clearing his throat again, trying to fill the silence of the room, but it was not broken. As he sat there, Alfred ran his tongue across his sharp teeth.

Francis broke the silence, "What are you afraid of, exactly?"

Alfred cocked his jaw back and forth a few times before answering, "I don't know, I'm just… I mean, I'm a vampire!" He ended up exclaiming, probably a little too loudly, "what if I lose control or something?"

"Well, that's what I'm here for," Francis replied, "I'll make sure you don't, okay?"

It was a simple reassurance, but it made Alfred feel ten times better than he did. His nausea faded almost immediately, and he gave a quick sigh of relief, "Thanks, Francis, that helps." He glanced over to Arthur, who looked a little reassured as well.

"Then let's get this over with." Arthur replied, rolling up his sleeve.

With a quivering sigh, Alfred stood, and sat beside Arthur on the bed. Quietly, he asked, "Are you sure about this?"

Arthur nodded, "You need to keep your sanity."

"Alright," Alfred said slowly, staring down at Arthur's arm.

"Whenever you're ready," Arthur offered, holding his arm up closer to Alfred.

Alfred took a hold of Arthur's arm, and hesitated before he sunk his fangs into his friend's flesh. Contrary to the sweet scent, his blood tasted somewhat bitter. He heard Arthur let out a small grunt of pain, and Alfred would've pulled away, yet he couldn't. He had become entranced. The relief from his hunger was almost immediate, and world seemed to fade away causing him to close his eyes and bite down harder. The sounds that came from all directions muted, the only thing he could hear was the sound of his drinking, and the only thing he could focus on was the addictingly bitter taste of the blood that poured into his mouth.

But everything came crashing back to him in a single second, as he was smacked in the back of the head. His eyes snapped open and he gasped, letting go of the Breton's arm, and glancing around the room, seeking out the source of the attack, feeling aggression rise inside him. His eyes landed on Francis, who was sitting on the other side of the bed, beside Arthur, who lay pale and motionless. The sudden aggression faded quickly, as Alfred's stomach dropped. He softly cleared his throat, "Is… is he… alive?"

"Yes, he's fine," Francis said quickly, to Alfred's relief, "he just passed out."

"Shit!" Alfred exclaimed, "Did I really drink that much? I didn't mean to, I just—"

"No you didn't drink too much," Francis sounded strangely calm, "it's just how fast he lost it… He just needs to rest."

Alfred let out a sigh of relief, putting his head in his hands, and his palms brushing against the blood that was still on his lips. He wiped away the blood with the back of his hand, and licked it off, trying to be discrete with it.

A sudden sound pulled his attention. It sounded like the soft ringing of windchimes blowing steadily in the wind. Alfred turned his head, seeing a bright, glowing, yellow-white light illuminating from Francis' left hand, and hovering slightly over Arthur's bleeding wrist. The wound began glowing in response, and the Breton's flesh healed almost instantaneously.

"I didn't know you were a healer," Alfred stated, looking up from Arthur's arm to stare Francis in the eye.

The Nord leaned back a little and returned the gaze, "I know more than healing, I'm very skilled with wards*," he paused, "I'm not too bad at destruction, but ever since I found my calling with the Temple, I don't use them… What about you? Know any magic?"

Alfred chuckled, looking to the floorboards, "Not really, mostly a few, very simple healing and destruction spells. Nothing fancy."

"Well, at least you can heal yourself if needed."

Alfred nodded before sighing, "Thanks, by the way."

Francis, who had leaned over and started playing with Arthur's shaggy hair, turned his head to look back at him, "For what?"

"Coming with us," Alfred replied like it was obvious, "healing him, keeping me from killing him…" He hesitated before continuing, "I was so entranced, I don't think I would have been able to—"

"I don't need to know that." Francis interrupted quickly, closing his blue eyes, "You're welcome, though."

"Do you think we'll actually find what we need?"

Francis was quiet for a long moment, seeming to consider the question thoroughly. He let out a long sigh, staring up at the ceiling, "I don't know what to think, Alfred… It's not that I don't trust our abilities to get it, or find it, it's just… This might not work. We're putting all our faith into a rumor."

"You put your faith into Mara." Alfred stated.

Francis looked offended, "What is that supposed to mean? Mara isn't just a rumor!"

"I'm not calling Mara a rumor, Francis, what I'm saying is that there's no proof of her existence until we meet her, or don't meet her…" Alfred was trying to sound optimistic, "We can hope that it works, but it might not. All we have is our faith."

Francis blinked at him, "If you want to put it that way, then fine, just don't compare Mara to a spell of borderline necromancy* again, _okay?_ "

Alfred gave a smile, "I won't, I apologize."

Francis looked back to Arthur, running his fingers through the Breton's hair again, almost like he was comforting him. Alfred let out a small chuckle, Francis seemingly not noticing, and stood, "I'm going to try and get some rest, if that's alright."

"Go for it." Francis replied, glancing over his shoulder.

"If you need anything, wake me, okie dokie?"

Francis nodded silently.

With a sigh, Alfred unfolded a blanket out on the floor, and laid down. He took a few moments to get comfortable, and daydream— well, more like reminise. He hadn't been away from home very long, only about a year now, and so much has happened. He's crossed Skyrim many times, helped start a civil war, and countless other things. Just to think, only a year ago he was a farmer in a tiny village with his brother. Alfred narrowed his eyes and stared at the ceiling. How was Matthew? Was he able to afford the farm on his own? Or do all the work by himself? Closing his eyes, he began to worry. As soon as this whole vampire thing was dealt with, he would stop by the farm and see how his twin was doing.

* * *

 _Terms:_

 _Draugr-_ Undead warriors of Skyrim (Nords).

 _Dragon Priest-_ Priests that lived thousands of years ago, serving the Dragon overlords that ruled Skyrim. These priests were given special abilities and knowledge from the dragons.

 _Sabre Cats-_ Large predators of Skyrim, that live in mountains, tundra, or plains. Usually ambush travelers who stray too far from the main roads.

 _Fort Greenwall-_ A large bandit fort near Riften.

 _Windhelm-_ City located in northeastern Skyrim. Also known as the "City of Kings."

 _Winterhold-_ City in far northeastern Skyrim.

 _Kynesgrove-_ Small mining town directly south of Windhelm.

 _Braidwood Inn-_ Inn and pub located in Kynesgrove.

 _Emberbrand-_ Type of wine.

 _Bard-_ Musicians that play lutes, flutes, drums, and sing songs. Usually found in pubs.

 _Ward-_ A spell that can be cast to protect/act as a shield for the caster. Can protect any kind of danger, depending on skill level.

 _Necromancy (Skyrim's definition)-_ A mage who casts spells to communicate, conjugate, or resurrect the dead.

~Feliks-00


End file.
